


long time traveling here below

by fangirl_squee



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: M/M, accidentally maybe becoming a god, background Lem/Emmanuel - Freeform, implied hella/adelaide and hella/calhoun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-23 12:28:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16158992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirl_squee/pseuds/fangirl_squee
Summary: “There’s no one on the throne of Tristero.”Well nobody asked Fero.Technically, they still haven’t.





	long time traveling here below

**Author's Note:**

> austin: there's no one on the throne of tristero  
> me: but what if there was and it was: fero
> 
> thanks to maddie for their speedy betaing and for laughing at my dumb jokes
> 
> title from 'long time traveller' by the wailin' jennys

It had taken Fero a long time to get to the Mark of the Erasure. He’d lost count of the days - keeping track of the cycle of the moons was difficult enough without being in a snowstorm. He’d just kept walking (and walking, and walking) until he saw the towers. 

 

They looked just like Throndir had described, crumbling towers of grey stone, some reaching into the sky and other lying where they had fallen. Snow piled around them, swirling in entrances, the wind whistling a high note through the gaps in the stone.

 

Fero pulled his cloak tighter around him. Well. Better get to work.

 

He moved quietly, listening intently for any sound of danger, but the place seemed to be deserted, even by the strange creatures Throndir had told him about. A few times, he thought he heard voices on the other side of a wall, only to find the room empty, dust still thick on the floor. Other times, the sound was behind a door that refused to be opened.

 

After hours of searching he slept, curled up in a broken cupboard in what was probably the largest kitchen he’d ever seen. He searched again when he woke, found nothing again but empty rooms. He braced himself for the wind, and headed to the next tower.

 

This one had fallen over, making it harder to navigate. Most of the doors were wood, long since broken by the elements even if they had survived the fall of the tower, the rooms empty and cold. At least the way it had fallen meant that it blocked more of the wind as he got further in. As he reached the underground portion of the tower, more of the doors had survived, although they were equally as unopenable as the other tower had been. 

 

Fero scowled, kicking the unreasonably stubborn door. “How am I supposed to help if none! Of! You! Will! Open!”

 

There was a soft click behind him, the sound echoing down the corridor. Fero turned. A door at the end of the hallway, the only one he had not yet checked, was ajar.

 

“Finally!” said Fero, “Thank you; was that so hard?”

 

He pushed open the door carefully, keeping his movements slow. He frowned, looking behind him at the rough, grey stone of the hallway, before turning back to the room. He took a deep breath, and stepped inside.

 

The room was enormous, white marble columns almost seeming to disappear into the arching ceiling above. The floor was polished to a mirror shine, reflecting the pristine white walls. The only furniture in the room was a small, delicately carved writing table against one wall, and a huge throne made of the same marble as the rest of the room.

 

Fero hummed, the sound echoing through the room, bouncing back to him like a chorus of his own voice. He laughed.

 

He squinted up at the empty throne for a moment before heading towards the writing desk. Fero ran a finger along the designs, tracing the carvings of birds and waves. They’d even inlaid pearls to the design, using them as part of the flowers that wound their way up the legs of the table. There were two drawers in the desk. One held blank paper and a half-empty bottle of ink. The other was locked.

 

“Typical,” huffed Fero.

 

He turned his eyes back to the throne, his eyes tracing the lines of it as he got closer. Unlike the writing desk, the throne was unadorned, the marble cold and unpolished under his hand.  It felt old, the way his cave home had felt old: something resonating in his bones, making him feel heavy. 

 

Without really thinking about it, he sat down, closing his eyes for a moment under the weight. He let out a long breath, tipping his head back to rest on the back of the chair.

 

The sudden sound of footsteps startled him. Fero jumped up, briefly considering hiding behind the chair before deciding to lean against it instead, facing whatever danger approached.

 

It wasn’t a danger at all. It was a middle-aged human, their hair tied back in a messy ponytail and their long cloak splattered with dark mud.

 

“Hello?” they said hesitantly.

 

“Uh, hi?” said Fero. “What are you doing here?”

 

They looked around themselves for a moment, caught in the sight of the high ceiling as Fero had been, before their gaze flicked back to him. “I um. I don’t know.”

 

Fero nodded. “Yeah, I get that.”

 

They looked at him for a moment, shuffling their feet. “I-- what do I do now?”

 

Fero blinked. “I guess… whatever you want?”

 

“Is that… is that, you know, allowed?”

 

“Sure!” said Fero. “You can always do whatever you want!”

 

“Even…” they glanced over their shoulder, “even go back?”

 

“Sure,” said Fero again, “I mean, doors work both ways, right?”

 

The human looked behind them. The heavy door creaked open, letting in a sliver of moonlight.

 

“I can go back? Truly?”

 

They seemed to need to encouragement, so Fero nodded confidently. “Yeah, of course!”

 

Their eyes filled with tears. “Oh, I… thank you, you don’t…  _ thank you _ .”

 

“Hey, no problem,” said Fero.

 

The door clicked shut behind them.

 

“I guess some people are just really enthusiastic about directions,” said Fero.

 

His voice echoed back to him, warm in the cold room.

 

Fero looked over the room again, tried the locked drawer again, then shrugged. This room was more interesting than the others in the tower but it was just as much of a bust as the others. He sighed, looking over his shoulder at the throne as he moved to push open the door, then frowned. He pushed again.

 

The door wouldn’t open.

 

“Oh come  _ on _ ,” said Fero, pushing at it.

 

The door didn’t move.

 

Fero put his hands on his hips. “That’s not funny!”

 

_ Not funny _ , echoed his voice.

 

He tried the door again. The handle would turn, but the door wouldn’t budge. 

 

Fero let out a long breath. “Okay. So I’ll just find another way out.”

 

On the opposite wall, behind the throne, was another door.

 

“Was that there the whole time?” said Fero. “You know what, whatever, doesn’t matter.”

 

That door wouldn’t open either. Fero kicked it.

 

“Ow! Stupid door!” He sat down on the floor with a huff.

 

Someone cleared their throat behind him. “Hello?”

 

Fero turned to see a tall, reedy man wearing a shoddily-tailored suit. “What do  _ you _ want?”

 

The man blinked, some of the haughtiness bleeding out of his expression. He cleared his throat again, this time sounding a little more nervous.

 

“I uh. I suppose I’m looking for the… the next place.” 

 

“The next room?” said Fero, “Yeah, sure, it’s through here. Probably.”

 

“Probably?”

 

Fero shrugged. “Well, I’ve never seen it, so.”

 

“Ah,” said the man, nodding knowingly, “I suppose you wouldn’t.” He paused. “Aren’t you going to open it?”

 

“You can’t open a door yourself?” said Fero.

 

The man huffed, annoyed. He turned the knob easily, stepping through without a backwards glance. The door clicked shut behind him.

 

Fero stared at the door. He tried it a few times, but it was just as impossible to open as it had been before.

 

“This is really unfair you know,” said Fero, “I mean, you let  _ that _ guy out.”

 

The door remained closed.

 

Fero sighed. “Maybe I can kind a key or something in that drawer.”

 

The emptied the first drawer. Blank paper, the half empty ink bottle, a few quills, and a wooden flute. Nothing that would break open a door. Fero played it experimentally - it sounded just like the one he’d made once.

 

He eyed the second drawer for a moment before trying to open it. This time, it opened smoothly.

 

“ _ Thank _ you,” said Fero.

 

This drawer held more paper - envelopes with letters, some thick and bulky, others that felt like they must only contain a single page. The writing on the front of the letters was in two different people’s handwriting, but both addressed their letters to Hella. Fero put them back in the drawer, careful to not even touch them too much.

 

Apart from the letters, there wasn’t much else. A book of poetry that Fero flipped through without reading, a few long, black feathers, a handful of smooth river stones. He kept one of the stones and put everything else back, turning the stone around in his hand as he walked around the room, looking for any crack in the marble walls.

 

He was so caught up in looking that he almost bumped into a woman coming in through the door.

 

“Sorry, sorry!”

 

“Hey, that’s alright,” said Fero, “I was looking for--  _ whoa _ .”

 

The woman was wearing battered Velas armour, one side of her chainmail soaked in blood. She looked down, her hand going to her side.

 

“Are you okay?” said Fero.

 

“I feel okay,” said the woman, “I feel great actually.” She blinked down at the bloody hand that she’d pressed to her wounded side. “I think I might be dead though.”

 

“That’s not so bad,” said Fero. “I know plenty of people who are dead, and they’re doing just fine.”

 

The woman blinked at him, then laughed. “I guess you would! So, where to from here?”

 

“People keep asking me that,” said Fero.

 

The woman’s eyes crinkled with amusement. “And what do you say to them?”

 

“I dunno,” said Fero. “I mean, it’s really up to you.”

 

“Up to me…” said the woman thoughtfully, “I would like to go back, if I could. Finish the battle, see my troop home.”

 

“Sure,” said Fero, “you could even go home yourself.”

 

“There’s no, ah, time limit?”

 

“Nah,” said Fero. He thought for a moment. “Except, y’know, the end of the world.”

 

The woman laughed. “Right. Well.” She held out her hand. “I thank you, for this gift.”

 

“It’s really just directions.” said Fero, shaking her hand.

 

The woman laughed again, slipping out the door she’d come in. It clicked shut as Fero reached for the handle.

 

“Oh come  _ on _ ,” said Fero, “you let her out!”

 

The door stayed closed.

 

“Fine,” said Fero. 

 

He stomped to the throne and sat down, crossing his arms and glaring at the door until he couldn’t keep his eyes open. He dreamt of the sea, cold and deep and quiet, a storm raging above.

 

People trickled into the room and then out again, always seeming pleasantly surprised that Fero said that could do whatever they wanted. Some promised that they only wanted to complete one last thing (a daughter’s birthday, a friend’s wedding, one last trip to their favourite place) but Fero told them there was no rush. There wasn’t, as far as he could tell. 

 

Some went through the door behind the throne, smiling as they went. Fero could never make out what was on the other side of it, but they all seemed to like it.

 

The room, annoyingly, still wouldn’t let him out, stubbornly keeping its doors locked to him. He did think, briefly, about slipping out of the door before someone else, but there was a pretty good chance that the room would lock  _ them  _ in instead, which wasn’t really a solution at all.

 

“I just wish there was something else in here,” said Fero, kicking his feet off the side of the throne, “something more alive than stone.”

 

The next time he woke, the room was a forest. It was a little more orderly than a real forest, the lines of the trees leaving a clear path from the throne to the doors, and he could see flashes of the walls through the undergrowth, but still. 

 

He sat on the grass, the white light of the room muted by the trees overhead.

 

“Thank you,” said Fero.

 

It was easier to fall asleep on the grass than it was on the throne. He dreamt of a man, his eyes vaguely familiar, sitting with him on the grass.

 

“I admit,” said the man, “you are not who I was expecting to see.”

 

“Well I wasn’t expecting to be here,” said Fero.

 

The man huffed a laugh. “Not many do.” He put a hand on Fero’s shoulder. “Still, it is important that someone is here.”

 

They sat together for a moment, looking up at the trees together.

 

“Wait,” said Fero, “who  _ were _ you expecting?”

 

“My daughter,” said the man, “Adelaide.”

 

Fero woke up, the grass soft on his cheek. He blinked up at the leaves.

 

“Am I dead?”

 

The leaves rustled.

 

“Well that’s not an answer,” said Fero.

 

He waited until the next person came in - this time, it was an old halfling, leaning heavily on a cane as they pushed this way into the room.

 

“Hi,” said Fero, “this might be a strange question, but are you, y’know, dead?”

 

“I think I must be,” said the halfling, their voice raspy, “every winter these days I get sick, and every year is worse than the last.”

 

“Thanks,” said Fero, “and, um, sorry.”

 

“S’alright. My wife’s been waiting for me awhile now.” They gestured at the door behind the throne. “Is that the way to go?”

 

Fero nodded. They nodded back, touching the brim of their cap as they made their way slowly towards the door. It opened before them, closing smoothly behind them before Fero could see anything but bright light.

 

“Right,” said Fero, “Right so I’m dead, maybe, and these people are dead, probably, so that’s… uh…”

 

His eyes drifted to the writing desk, now under the curved branches of a willow tree. He could see the pearls in the table legs glinting. Fero frowned, moving to look closer at the carvings along the table - waves and flowers and ships and pearls. Adelaide’s writing desk.

 

Well. Good thing he didn’t read those letters to Hella. She probably wouldn’t like that.

 

Fero sighed. The door creaked open behind him.

 

“Hello?”

 

Fero sighed, and turned to help whoever it was. If he was stuck here, he might as well give directions.

 

\--

  
  


The man was in his dream again.

 

“So you’re Tristero, right?” asked Fero.

 

Tristero nodded.

 

“Why can’t you come and do this?” said Fero, “Isn’t this kind of your thing?”

 

“My time is done,” said Tristero, “I could no more return to the throne than Angelo or Adelaide could.”

 

“But why do  _ I  _ have to do it,” said Fero, “I was trying to save the world! I was busy!”

 

“There is no one else;” said Tristero, “the throne has already chosen you.”

 

“Well it can  _ un _ choose me,” said Fero, crossing his arms.

 

Tristero smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I’m afraid it does not work that way, little bird. Besides, you’re quite good at it.”

 

Fero blinked, looking up at Tristero. “I am?”

 

Tristero nodded. “The people seem to find you a comfort. I could not ask for better than that.”

 

Fero opened his eyes, his throat aching. The leaves rustled above him.

 

He swallowed. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. I guess I can do this.”

  
  


There weren’t as many deaths as Fero would have thought, which he took as a good sign for the state of the outside world. In between visitors, he stretched out on the grass and tried to learn the language of the trees. They were quieter than the trees he’s grown up around, taking their time and choosing their words carefully.

 

He avoided the writing desk, with it’s half-filled inkpot and blank paper. He didn’t have anyone he would have wanted to write to anyway.

  
  


Fero was crouched next to the throne, trying to coax moss to grow over the cold marble, when the door opened. The entering half-elf saw him and immediately launched into a speech about the unfairness of death, barely giving Fero a chance to ask him what the hell he was talking about before the half-elf burst into tears.

 

“And my  _ kids _ ,” sobbed the half-elf, “you can’t just  _ take me away from them _ \--”

 

“If you want to see them again so badly, why don’t you just do that?” said Fero.

 

“I can?”

 

“Yeah, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you for like, an hour!” said Fero.

 

The door clicked open.

 

“Oh…” The half-elf’s eyes filled with tears, and he pulled Fero into a tight hug before stepping back quickly. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have… it’s just, my  _ kids _ …”

 

Fero patted his arm. “Hey, it’s okay, we all get caught up in the moment.”

 

The half-elf wiped his eyes. “I won’t forget this. I’ll pray to you every day.”

 

“Yeah yeah, okay,” said Fero, pushing him towards the door.

 

“I thank you, oh Lord, my children thank you, I--”

 

The door clicked shut. The trees rustled.

 

Fero huffed a laugh. “You said it.”

  
  


He wasn’t sure how long he’d been there, long enough to convince moss to grow over the sides of the throne. Fero patted it absentmindedly on his way past, walking a slow circle through the forest room. He paused at the writing desk.

 

Fero bit his lip. He got out paper and one of the quills, rolling it in-between his fingers for a moment before he began.

 

~~_ Dear _ ~~ __ ~~_ To _ ~~ __ ~~_ Hi _ ~~

_ Lem _

 

~~_ I’m still mad _ ~~ __ ~~_ The last time I saw you _ ~~ __ ~~_ You suck and _ ~~ _  I have to be in charge of death so I guess I won’t see you for a long time.   _ ~~_ or I hope not anyway _ ~~

~~_ You’re always so reckless with your safety and I  _ ~~ __ ~~_ I tried to _ ~~

_ I hope you’re taking good care of the plant. _

 

_ \- Fero _

 

Fero stared at the words on the page until the blurred in front of his eyes. He folded the letter up and put it in the drawer with the others. It wasn’t like he had a way to send it.

  
  


 

“You know,” said Tristero, “You can visit people in dreams if you wish.”

 

“I can?” said Fero, “How?”

 

“Just close your eyes and think of them,” said Tristero.

 

“What if they’re not asleep?”

 

Tristero shrugged.

 

Fero made a face. “Who would I even want to talk to anyway?”

 

Tristero looked down at him, putting a cold hand on Fero’s shoulder. “Perhaps you will think of someone. Eventually.”

  
  


 

Slowly, moss covered the throne completely. It was much nicer to sit on than it had been, but Fero still preferred to sit on the soft grass. It wasn’t really his, after all. He was just looking after it, for a little while.

 

Maybe he’d try to convince it to grow flowers next. It had been a long time since he’d seen flowers.

 

The door creaked open behind him. Fero straightened, turning to see a young human in Samothes robes poke their head through the door. Fero waved. They waved back, stepping hesitantly into the room.

 

He was half-way through coaxing them into making a decision (followers of Samothes, he’d found, always had trouble with the ‘any choice you make is fine’ part), when the door opened again. This wasn’t so unusual - there’d been a few batches of sickness or battle since he’d been there, pulling people through in small groups. It was unusual that he recognised the people though.

 

“ _ Fero _ ?” said Hella.

 

“Hi!” said Fero.

 

“What the  _ hell _ are  _ you _ doing here?” said Adelaide.

 

“Wow,” said Fero, “hello to you too.”

 

“Fero, what… how…?” said Hella.

 

“I know, right?” said Fero, “Listen, I’ll just be a sec, you can take a seat literally anywhere on the ground.”

 

He turned back to the follower of Samothes, patiently answering questions (no he hadn’t ever met Samothes, no Samothes wasn’t here, no he didn’t know where he was, yes he had met Prince Ephrim and Hadrian Sword Of Samothes, no there really was no ‘Right’ door). 

 

“I guess… I guess I would like to see my sister again,” they said hesitantly.

 

“Right!” said Fero, clapping a hand on their arm, “then back the way you came it is!”

 

The door clicked open.

 

“Thank you Lord.”

 

“Just Fero is fine,” said Fero. “Have a good rest of your life!”

 

Hella and Adelaide were still staring at him when he turned around.

 

“What?”

 

“What was that!” said Hella.

 

“What do you mean what was that?” said Fero, “They were just asking for directions.” He paused. “Sorry about you being dead by the way, that’s kind of a bummer.”

 

“I’m not,” said Hella, “Adelaide wanted to come here after she heard about new undead people coming back. At first we thought there was some kind of, like, necromancer but…”

 

“Nah,” said Fero, “Sometimes people come in and they say they’ve got stuff they need to still do, so I--”

 

“You just let them go  _ back _ ?” said Adelaide.

 

“Yeah?” said Fero, “I mean, what am I gonna do, make them stay dead? I’m not their boss.”

 

“You kind of are though,” said Hella.

 

“You can’t just let  _ them _ decide,” said Adelaide.

 

“Sure I can,” said Fero.

 

“Well, not anymore,” said Adelaide, moving to sit on the throne.

 

She paused, seemingly expecting something to happen. She frowned at the grass. Overhead, the trees rustled.

 

“I guess not,” said Fero, “Sorry.”

 

“Well, at least now we know it’s not a problem,” said Hella, “it’s just Fero.”

 

“Hey!”

 

Hella looked down at him. “I did kind of wonder what happened to you. Throndir and Ephrim said you went off alone to the Erasure. You basically just disappeared.”

 

“I got in and then the room wouldn’t let me out,” said Fero, “and then I had a couple dreams where that Tristero guy was like _ you’re in charge now _ or whatever, so--”

 

“My father came to you in a dream?” said Adelaide.

 

Fero shrugged. “Yeah. Weird guy. Nice, but weird.”

 

“I think gods are just like that,” said Hella. “So you’ll fit right in.”

 

“He- _ ey _ !” said Fero, with a laugh.

 

Hella laughed too, giving him a soft punch to his shoulder.

 

“I’m not a god though,” said Fero, “I’m just, y’know, filling in.”

 

“I don’t really think that’s how it works,” said Hella.

 

“I can’t believe my father would allow this,” said Adelaide.

 

“I don’t think he had much of a say in it either,” said Fero, “he said he thought you’d be here.”

 

The anger on Adelaide’s face fluttered away and she looked towards the treeline. Her eyes widened, then narrowed.

 

“If this is your domain then why is my desk still here?” said Adelaide, smirking.

 

Fero shrugged. “I don’t know, I thought it was pretty. Oh! Hey, Hella, there’s a bunch of letters in there for you.”

 

Hella raised her eyebrows. “What?”

 

“Yeah, here,” said Fero, pulling the bunch of letters from the drawer.

 

Hella looked slowly from the letters to Adelaide, a smirk of her own forming. “Huh.”

 

Fero grinned.

 

“Uh, this one’s not for me,” said Hella.

 

She held up a roughly folded letter, Fero’s own scrawled handwriting recogniseable to him even at a distance. His grin faded.

 

“Uh, yeah, that’s… um. Sorry, I’ll just--”

 

He reached to take the letter back but Hella lifted it a little higher.

 

“I can give it to him if you want,” said Hella.

 

“Nah, it’s… it doesn’t say anything he doesn’t already know,” said Fero, keeping his voice light, “I just got bored, y’know.”

 

“Okay,” said Hella, “I can wait, if you want to write him something he  _ doesn’t _ know.”

 

“He thinks he knows  _ everything _ ,” said Fero, “it’s part of why he sucks so bad.”

 

Hella huffed a laugh. “I’m such you could tell him something, though. If you wanted.”

 

She held the letter out. Fero made a face, then took it.

 

“Yeah, okay. Give me a minute.”

 

Fero flipped the paper over, hesitating for a moment trying to find the right words before he gave up.

 

_ Lem, _

 

_ You suck and I’m still really mad at you and I don’t forgive you and also I miss you and your dumb voice and your stupid face and I’m in charge of death now so I better not see you for a really long time or I’m going to be even madder at you but also when you do die maybe we can hang out for a bit or whatever. _

 

_ \- Fero _

 

He let out a breath, quickly folding the letter before he could have second thoughts about the words.

 

“Here,” said Fero, handing the paper to Hella, “Tell him...um…”

 

“I’ll tell him you said hi,” said Hella.

 

“Yeah,” said Fero, relieved, “tell him I said hi.”

  
  


 

Fero knew he was dreaming the moment he opened his eyes. Instead of the forest room, he was in an ordinary tavern room, a fire banked low. A lantern sat on a table, illuminating a book, and the orc asleep on top of it. Fero’s breath caught in his throat.  _ Lem _ .

 

Lem looked older, certainly, grey in his hair and lines on his face than hadn’t been there were Fero had last seen him. A patched blanket was draped over him, almost dropping off one shoulder.

 

Without thinking, Fero reached up to pull it back over him, the way he had with Lem so many times in their lives.

 

Lem blinked awake, squinting at Fero before he clumsily reached for a pair of glasses.

 

“ _ Fero _ ?”

 

Fero opened his mouth then closed it again, his throat suddenly too tight to speak.

 

“Hella gave me your letter,” said Lem.

 

Fero cheeks flushed. “Oh.”

 

“I mean, it was a while ago, but I couldn’t exactly write back…”

 

“Yeah,” said Fero, “No, I guess not.”

 

Lem was looking at him oddly, his eyes flicking over Fero. His cheeks were flushed.

 

“What?” said Fero.

 

“Nothing, nothing it’s just… you look just the same as when I saw you last,” said Lem, “And I’m sure that I look quite different.”

 

“Yeah,” said Fero, “I guess it’s been a while.”

 

Lem huffed a laugh. “It certainly has.” 

 

Lem smiled down at him, that same, soft smile that he’d given Fero so many times while they’d travelled together. Fero’s chest ached sharply, just as it had so many times when Lem had given him that look.

 

Fero had done a lot of things after he’d gotten that look - teased Lem until he went off in a huff, made Lem laugh, changed the subject, and once, memorably, turned into a cat and curled up to sleep on Lem’s lap.

 

This time, he stepped forward, close enough that he could feel the warmth of Lem’s body, as close as he always wanted to be to Lem. Lem’s breath hitched. He reached out towards Fero, then stopped.

 

“Can I--?”

 

“Yes,” breathed Fero.

 

Lem touched him lightly on his arm, the brush of Lem’s fingers so light that it could have been a breeze, settling on Fero’s shoulder.

 

“You’re really here,” said Lem, wonderingly.

 

“Yes,” said Fero, “Well, sort of. This is a dream.”

 

“Well, in that case,” said Lem, pulling him a little closer.

 

Fero put his hands on Lem’s chest, sliding them slowly upwards. He leant in towards Lem, resting his face on Lem’s chest, listening to his heartbeat for a moment before he tilted his face up.

 

“Emmanuel?” said Fero.

 

“He’s fine, he’s in the other room,” said Lem, “I mean, in real life he is. He always goes to bed earlier because he has a bakery to run and has to be up at a ridiculous hour. But this is a dream.”

 

Fero made a face. “No, I mean, is he okay with… you know.”

 

Lem’s cheeks flushed a deep green. “Yes. He, uh, he read the letter, after… I was quite upset, after I got it.”

 

Fero blinked. “You were?”

 

“You were supposed to come back,” said Lem, his arms tightening around Fero, “you weren’t supposed to, well.”

 

“Become the god of death?”

 

Lem huffed a laughed. “Yes, that.” He paused. “I think Emmanuel knew even before the letter. He certainly didn’t seem surprised.”

 

Fero felt his cheeks heat. “Oh.”

 

Lem hummed. “It’s good to see you, Fero. Even if it is just a dream.”

 

“I think I’ve figured out how to do it,” said Fero, “So I can probably come see you again, if you want.”

 

“I’d like that,” said Lem.

 

The edges of Fero’s vision started to fade. “Oh. I’m waking up.”

 

“Wait,” said Lem, “wait, I just--”

 

He clumsily pressed his lips to Fero, clacking his tusks against Fero’s teeth. It was absolutely the worst kiss Fero had ever had, and he never wanted it to end. He tangled his hands in the front of Lem’s shirt, clinging as much to the dream as to Lem.

 

“I’ll see you again,” said Fero breathlessly, “Try not to do anything too stupid.”

 

“I never do anything stupid,” said Lem.

 

Fero laughed himself awake.

 

The door creaked open. “Um, hello?”

 

“Hi,” said Fero brightly, “now, the most important thing you’ve got to know right off the bat is that what comes next is totally up to you.”

  
  



End file.
